


50 Oneshot Book / (shadows fade into the light)

by moonsandstar_s



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:05:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4507089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsandstar_s/pseuds/moonsandstar_s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>50 Carmilla oneshots, based off various themes selected by yours truly, ranging from love to hate to happiness to sorrow to loss, and everything in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Welcome to 50 oneshot book! Each chapter will be its own oneshot entirely, though some may continue off others. 

Without further ado, the fifty themes!

 

**_1\. who am i?_ **

**_2\. in the snow_ **

**_3\. deceit_ **

**_4\. paper_ **

**_5\. hold my hand_ **

**_6\. tongue-tied_ **

**_7\. blue_ **

**_8\. with you_ **

**_9\. exploit_ **

**_10\. not wearing that_ **

**_11\. can you hear me_ **

**_12\. believe_ **

**_13\. in the storm_ **

**_14\. first kiss_ **

**_15\. shooting star_ **

**_16\. broken wings_ **

**_17\. last dance_ **

**_18\. bite_ **

**_19\. at the edge_ **

**_20\. breaking the rules_ **

**_21\. good riddance_ **

**_22\. books_ **

**_23\. weight of the world_ **

**_24\. my child_ **

**_25\. sunlight_ **

**_26\. tactile_ **

**_27\. happy birthday_ **

**_28\. waiting_ **

**_29\. fading away_ **

**_30\. all I ask_ **

**_31\. blame me_ **

**_32\. open your eyes_ **

**_33\. hope_ **

**_34\. good enough_ **

**_35\. eternal_ **

**_36\. that hurt_ **

**_37\. meant no harm_ **

**_38\. blood_ **

**_39\. secret admirer_ **

**_40\. separation_ **

**_41\. diamond_ **

**_42\. flying_ **

**_43\. pool_ **

**_44\. puppy love_ **

**_45\. under the influence_ **

**_46\. fever_ **

**_47\. throne_ **

**_48\. shackles_ **

**_49\. coming home_ **

**_50\. odds and ends_ **

• • •

For the prologue, a little taste of what's ahead... 

• • •

 _Carmilla's eyes are lidded against the heavy rain of golden light that streams from a flawless blue sky. Arrows fly like swifts, whizzing through the air with barely a whisper. Her teeth grind together with disdain, but she's very aware of the danger here. The arrows are tipped with silver, after all, a deadly metal to her. The Baron's insane quest for vengeance could well get her killed. It's hard to not take that seriously, but she's_ furious.

_At Laura, at Vordenburg, at Mattie, but mostly, at herself._

_Her tongue slides over her fangs, both sharp points pronging out at the thick stench of coppery blood in the air. With the restrictions in place, the supernatural deities on campus are letting themselves go entirely, rebelling and being rounded up like dogs._

_A rustle sounds in the brush behind her. Carmilla turns, lips peeling back to reveal her fangs. It's a bold, striking Summer Society member, her bow and arrow poised straight at Carmilla's heart._

_Carmilla regards the other Summer Society girl, eyes glittering with dark anger. Her fangs curve over her lower lip and the arrow flies._

_She crumbles as something ruptures inside of her._

_A flurry of screaming and struggling erupts somewhere outside of her view and then a dark shadow is looming above her, propping her up. Carmilla struggles to breathe as blood pulses from her collarbone. Mattie looks, for the first time, sharply panicked, hands trying to stem the flow._

_She can see Mattie lean over her, eyes smoldering with anger and desperate worry. "Carmilla?" She says, shaking her. Carmilla cries as a jolt of pain jars through her, electric, liquid fire spinning through her veins. "Carmilla, can you hear me?"_

_"Mattie," she gasps, breath wheezing as she struggles for breath, invisible hands squeezing the very_ life _out of her. "Take me to Laura."_

_And then darkness is roaring up to meet her.  
_


	2. who am I?

**rating: T**

_prompt 1/50_

**_I. Who Am I?_ **

_;; mattie_

• • •

 _"Who am I?"_ she growls, a vicious chuckle building in her throat at the sheer, black terror in her victim's eyes. "I am your worst nightmare."

It's a bit cliché, yes; there will be bigger enemies to fight, though, and more time to mint her reputation. 

"Please," the girl stammers, and Mattie can hear her heart thudding too fast and the warm blood coursing in her veins. Her fangs pop out with a _snick_ and she grins, the merciless, terrifying smile of a wolf. "Please, l-let me go! I won't tell anyone, I p-promise!"

Mattie's fingers dig like talons into her prey and she snarls, baring her fangs. "I don't _think_ so, darling," she laughs, devoid of humor, eyes black in the moonlight. The girl tries to lunge, to escape, and with a quick motion, Mattie tears out the girl's throat, opening the sharp tang of copper to the chilly night. The silver glory of the stars, blazing in a vaulting, flawless sky, turns the blood to onyx. 

After Mattie has drunken her fill, sated, she wipes her mouth and curls her lip at the already cooling body. _What whelps, mortals are,_ she thinks scathingly, before she melts into the night shadows. 

. . .

"Who am I?" She stares down at the other girl, clearly frightened but standing her ground. "I'm your sister now, apparently."

Carmilla isn't very striking- raven hair, pallid skin, a curved, scowling slant to her brows that suggests she's perpetually pissed off at the world- but there's a glitter, a strength, a lustre to her eyes that doesn't invite the notion that she is easily broken. She flicks a piercing, perusive look over Mattie before grinning; her fangs poke outward. It's not a friendly grin, and it is entirely absent of warmth. "I see."

"Come with me, darling," she says, taking Carmilla's hand. It's chillingly cold and her eyes flash- surprise? Vulnerability?- before she smiles slightly. 

Carmilla displays alarming flashes of cunning and intellect, tempered by a ruthlessness that encourages Mattie that Mother picked a good human to turn. They work well together. But at the same time, there is a certain humanity that still softens her savagery. Mattie sees it when she refuses to kill her victims, instead leaving them on the brink of unconsciousness, in the mutiny on her face when Mother scolds her, the glitter in her eyes. 

Mattie isn't sure who Carmilla is at heart, not yet, but she does know that she is her sister, and bound to protect her at all costs. Maybe it's not good for her to have this devotion, but they are all the other has, if only for the moment. 

. . .

"Who am I?" She echoes. "I'm the vampire that's going to clout you, if you don't quit pestering me."

Carmilla scowls, but complies, slinking backward. "I don't get why we're in Saigon."

Mattie narrows her eyes, allowing her fangs to slash out. The moonlight, streaking down in shot silver rays, glances off the sharp white ivory points. Her fangs flash eerily bright in her dark face, her grin menacing and glittering. Carmilla's eyes glint darkly in the ghostly, ethereal light. 

They're both kind of drunk- okay, so maybe they're really drunk, but Mattie is still lucid, for the moment. And she's hungry. 

"The humans here are ignorant, too brash for their own good," she replies, turning back to Carmilla's inscrutable gaze. "It's been centuries since I've had a rampage, much too long for my tastes-"

"How old are you, anyway?" Carmilla coaxes eagerly, but with a flick of her hand, Mattie goes on. There are some things she doesn't need to divulge, and it is simple to dissuade her sister from further prying inquiry. 

"- and Mother is out on business. Don't you want to live a little, Carmilla?"

She looks doubtful, almost infantile for a second, before her eyes glitter with trusting for her big sister, wanting to please. It's not bloodlust, but it will have to suffice. A genuine grim, curling crookedly across her mouth, splits Mattie's face as she crouches in the shadows and looks towards Carmilla. 

"Come on, sweetie. Let's paint this town red."

. . .

"Who am I?" Her eyes glitter with a cold, calculating light as Will seethes. "Far better than you will ever be, _brother_."

"Don't taunt me," he growls. His face is taut with suppressed rage and she leans back, grinning humorlessly around her fangs. 

"Does that upset you?" She laughs smoothly and his anger peters out abruptly.

"You don't anger me. Don't pretend to be all cool and collected. I know you're only running to Morocco with the excuse of Board duties because you don't want to see it happen again," Will snaps, his fangs flashing in the gloom. 

Mattie, nonplussed, narrows her eyes. "Don't want to see _what_ , exactly?" A veiled threat lies in her silky tone, but Will is unfettered by the menace in her voice, his blue eyes hot with triumph. 

"You don't want to see what happens every time," he says roughly. "You don't want to see Carmilla fall for yet another Marked. You don't want to see her struggling to choose between loyalty and love. You don't want to see her chafing and splintering as Mother finds out. You don't want to see the heartbreak that will happen either way, but you know what? It will happen because despite being a monster, that is _who she is_ \- and it kills you that you can't stop it from happening. _Every. Single. Time."_

A surge of genuine anger blazes up within her at his cocky, arrogant certainty. "You don't know what you're talking about, you _rat_ ," she snarls. "You're only a couple decades old. You're an infant to me, and as threatening as one, as well. Don't go straying from your paths. She is more my family than you ever will be, always groveling with your belly in the dirt, scraping to please Mother. You may be content with that subservience, but do not drag my sister down with you, or there will be hell to pay, William. That much I can promise you." She leans forward until she's nose to nose with him, a wolf-like snarl curving her fangs out. "Understand?"

A flicker of angry fear flashes through his eyes. "Let that be a warning," he only says, stepping away. "You may be so eager to protect Kitty from being a lovestruck fool, to warn her from getting inevitably hurt and not to invoke Mother's wrath, but bear this in mind." His voice is a low growl. "She can't live with a foot in both worlds. She has to choose eventually, and you know it. Just make sure she chooses wisely, before you go running off. She doesn't have self control."

For once in her long life, Mattie is speechless, and she cannot deny the truth in his harsh words as he saunters out the door. 

. . . 

"Who am I? Apparently no longer who you remember." Mattie frowns at a surly looking Carmilla. "Will was right; you did fall for a Marked again. How foolish can you be? And she killed Mother too!"

Carmilla's eyes flash. "You don't know what happened."

Mattie bares her fangs, anger licking hotly through her. "I don't understand how you can stand a human after the ordeal with that nymph in the eighteen hundreds."

Carmilla turns away. "It's not that."

"Forgive me if I don't understand," she replies, a note of frost creeping into her voice. "She even looks like the other one. You know this is doomed, sister."

Carmilla whirls back, and her eyes are full of tormented anger. "You of all people _should_ understand, Mattie!"

"What? That you killed Mother, wreaked chaos here? That you've thrown everything out of balance and you're clinging to her to relieve the guilt you hold due to Mother's murder? You're only inviting her to hurt you. She knows you're a vampire, but does she think you a hero? We both know that isn't so."

Carmilla goes silent, her expression thunderous. "Whatever," she says finally, tossing her head back and loping out into the chilly campus. Mattie watches her go, eyes narrowed. 

She can already see where this is going, but Carmilla won't listen. 

. . .

Mattie goes crashing into the bushes lining the green lawn as the panther shoves her hard, and she sees Carmilla roar, a juddering yowl that echoes across the campus. Her ears pinned flat against her head, tail lashing in fury, she bares her teeth, a terrible, low snarl emanating from her throat. 

The growl turns into a sharp, wailing yelp as a silver streak whizzes through the air, with barely a sound, as it hits Carmilla with a whisper of fur, burying itself in her chest. Her golden eyes go wide with fear, flicking to the bushes, before she staggers and collapses, blood already staining her fur. 

Incensed, Mattie hurls herself out, but the perpetrators are gone. When she turns back, Carmilla is herself again, blood already blossoming crimson from the arrow buried in her sternum. Snarling in worry, Mattie leans down. Carmilla tenses, a hiss turning into a shriek as she wrenches the arrow out; she hooks her arms under her sister's shoulders and hauls her up, setting her sights for the only place she knows that help can be found. 

_I won't let you die, sister._

. . .

"I don't know who I am," she growls, pacing restlessly as Carmilla looks up from sunken, sorrowful eyes, her hair tumbling down in helixes, shielding the raw wound glaring from her chest. "And it looks like you don't either! What were you thinking, taking an arrow for me? I could've suffered that, I'm stronger than you are."

"You dont know that," Carmilla says calmly, shifting and wincing slightly, "and you're my sister. I wasn't going to take the chance."

"It was foolish of you," she mutters, tracing the crystal necks of wine bottles that poke from the racked walls. Trellises and lattices coil up the walls. Above them, the indistinct rumbles of brash voices are muffled, and Mattie doesn't miss the way Carmilla's chest heaves with a weary, sad sigh. 

"You did the right thing," she tells Carmilla, whose eyes are glittering inscrutably at her through the darkness of shadows, "to leave little Miss Marple behind. She would never understand your nature, dearest. Our nature. Humans condemn what they don't understand."

A grim, wry smile crooks Carmilla's mouth. It's entirely devoid of humor, just a bitter, ruminating amusement. "Sometimes I think she understood me better than I ever have, Mattie. But..." A gust of a rattling sigh, followed by an intake of a pained breath, "that's over now." Her voice is heavy, but full of candor. 

"It's for the best." A beat. "You _do_ know that, don't you?"

"Of course," she says hollowly. Her breath sounds uneven, taut with pain. "God, it feels like I got impaled with a rusty knife." She laughs raspily, but Mattie knows the pain must be incredible, for her to complain. 

"She almost let you _die_ ," Mattie seethes. "The hubris-filled little..."

"It was pragmatic," Carmilla murmurs. "That's what you would say, right? You would have done the same."

"Not if your life was on the line." She purses her lips. "We'll see where this stands when those simpleminded goons scurry on out."

Carmilla only gives an answering grunt of agreement. After a long stretch of silence, her breathing evens as she slides into a fitful sleep, but Mattie remains alert, eyes darting through the indistinct darkness. 

And Mattie glares up at the thin, feeble square of light that edges the trapdoor, hearing thundering footsteps, the coppery tang of blood. She may not know herself, but she knows she will protect her little sister at any cost. 

She glances at Carmilla, sprawled on the floor on a blanket and a flat pillow, fingers of dusty light gracing her furrowed expression. Starlight flickers over her, swathing her in silver, like lanterns. A tiny smile ghosts over Mattie's face.

No, she _does_ know. She's Carmilla's sister and protecter, from Will's taunting words, Mother's impossible expectations, a mortal girl that she's in love with. She'll have to coexist on that respect, because they're the only family the other has.

And that is all she needs to know.


	3. in the snow

_based off ‘Where Is Carmilla?’ by toodrunktofindaurl_

/ / 

“I’ll be back in two minutes, cupcake.” 

Laura glances at her, and her eyes are dark, glinting with worry, but she doesn’t voice her concerns. Carmilla forces herself not to tremble, and she’s in so much _pain_ , but Laura can’t know that. Snow is swirling down in a blinding white storm outside, and the flurrying blast of cold washes over her, biting, as she steps outside. But the cold numbs the pain and for that she welcomes it. 

Time blurs by as she limps through the snow, silently sensing the terrible tightening of a taut wire within her. Soon it will snap; for months she has known that, but now the gravity of the situation is strikingly real. A wave of emotion crashes over her; sorrow, quiet regret, and _fear_ \- a terrible fear. 

She doesn’t want to die. 

Roses. She has to get back, but she’s cold, she’s so _cold._

The wracking pain of the blood disease wrenches her chest, coiling through her bones, thrilling like liquid fire through her marrow. It’s a snake waiting to strike, and she hasn’t told Laura, and she hates it. Death, death, death, crawling up behind her, quietly laughing… 

She’s vaguely aware that she’s slowed, stopped, and crumpled to a sprawled heap in the snow. 

It’s cold.

She really supposes that she should come up with something less cliche than that, but her mind seems numb; ice is riming her skin, clinging in crystals to her hair, and she can feel the sheer frigidness seeping into her bones. Above, the sky is mottled in surly gray and dove colors, and still, the snow whirls down, encasing her in a stifling darkness. 

She can feel limp stems wilting in her hand, and it’s damn near impossible to haul herself up. All around, the snow is steadily building, and she can feel her heart slowing, her thoughts growing muddled. The ever-constant throb of pain from her blood weakness fades, along with all feeling, leaving only numbness. Feeling a flutter of panic, she tries to fight. Weakly, she struggles up, gasping in a breath of the sharp wintry air before collapsing in the snow that is starting to feel welcoming, embracing her. Nothing seems to be working, functioning, and then something frays, splinters, and finally springs apart inside of her with a great snap. 

_I’m sorry, Laura. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back to you._

The roses, long faded of crimson and folded weakly, slacken and fall from her hand. She turns her eyes to the sky, and a feeble ray of sun peeks out, gilding her in gold. The dark gold of the glittering star reminds her of Laura’s eyes, and it’s with the faintest shadow of a wistful smile that she succumbs to the steady call of darkness, and finally falls forever asleep in the snow. 

The snow curls around the roses fallen, and with a breath of wind, the splashes of scarlet feathered in the snow are buried forever.


	4. deceit

**rating** : T

_prompt 3/50_

**3\. deceit**

;; mel 

• • •

Mel’s eyes narrow in burning hatred as Theo slinks out of the room, and a surge of weaker, but no less potent, dislike constricts her heart as Danny watches him go. She could care less about catching the vampires— Vordenburg is clearly out of his mind, with that kind of a tall order— and she’s honestly hoping someone takes him down a notch before the power goes to his head. No, what she’s more angry about is that somehow, things fell apart just as they were coming together. She can’t _believe_ it. 

Goddamned Zetas, and the twisted elections. Danny somehow has even more power than she ever did, claiming alpha of Vordenburg’s little hunter squad.

She hears Danny’s footsteps as she’s halfway out of the building, like feathers skirting over earth. Danny warily half-jogs, half-lopes up, and there’s a good meter between them. Mattie’s nose flares, but she doesn’t broach the subject. If the overgrown ginger wants to pretend everything is cordial, that’s fine by her.

“Mel?”

“What?” she snaps. 

Danny’s eyes glance at her sharply, two teal coals of thinly concealed dislike. “You know I have no more power within the vampire hunters than you do.”

Mel’s lip curls in anger, her voice a low growl. “Believe what you want. The only reason they take orders from you is because that gargantuan puppy trails after you twenty-four seven. What Theo said was right. Maybe you _should_ decide where your allegiances lie, before it’s decided for you.”

Danny’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You think I didn’t see your eyes on that trapdoor?” She gives a derisive laugh, curling with dislike. “You think I don’t know that little pet of yours is shielding the nasty little vampires? I only kept my trap shut because I don’t want to give Theo’s cronies to satisfaction of being right, of being ‘ _heroes’_. Don’t think for a second that means I’m on your side.” 

Alarm flashes in Danny’s eyes before it’s cloaked with false bravado. “You’re not going to tell anyone.” 

“So long as it benefits me,” she says smugly, “no, I will not.” 

“So you’re deceiving Vordenburg for your benefit, is that it?”

“Nailed it.” She rolls her eyes. “That crackpot old fool will be out as soon as he starts biting off more than he can chew, mark my words. Having us wear these stupid brands on our foreheads, working us to the bone for his revenge— he’s insane.” 

“You could get in serious trouble with talk like that,” Danny warns, looking at her with caution. 

She regards Danny with scorn. “Really, little Artemis? Who’s going to report me? You?” A crooked grin slants her face. “I think we both know what would happen if by some fat chance you gathered the courage to do so.” 

Frustration flits across her face. “Fine. I won’t; you’re right. But you can’t tell about the vampires.”

“Because we all know how saddened you’d be if the little blonde were to pay for her disobedience, don’t we?” Mel narrows her eyes, grinning at the anger that blazes on Danny’s face. “I’ll keep the information to myself… for now, at least. Until I see where the cards fall.” 

With that, she stalks off into the gathering dawn, a sway in her step. 

. . .

“Get your grimy paws _off_ of me, Bromeo.”

Kirsch scowls, but snatches his hands away. “You won’t answer me.”

Mel scowls at him. “I _said_ I don’t know where Danny is. Probably off gallivanting with that little freshman, the way she never will with _you_ ,” she adds, savoring the look of hurt that crosses his face. 

He slouches away, and Mel feels the slightest twinge of guilt, seeing the tiny scars that flicker across his arms from the Adonis Hunt, but she quickly admonishes herself, brushing the feeling away. He’s a Zeta and for that alone, he deserves punishment and reprimands. 

“You don’t need to be like that, you know.”

Mel sets her jaw in anger, eyes rolling and shoulders stiffening as the ever-obnoxious accent of Theo rolls melodiously in her ears. The Zeta President trots up, looking annoyingly bro-ish in his letter jacket and cocky smirk. 

“Forgive me,” she says scathingly, dislike dripping from her words, “Because I just love being an angel to the dumbasses of campus.” 

“You think we are simpleminded— ‘ _bro throwaways_ ’, as you have put it— because we do not agree with your views.” Theo’s gaze tracks Kirsch as he trots away. “It is quite insulting, really.”

“I’m not predisposed to be charitable to the bros of campus that are incapable of keeping a GPA higher than their sobriety and are eager to slaver as the henchmen of that old fool,” she says, unable to keep bitterness from her voice. Theo’s eyes flash. 

“Do you mean Vordenburg?” he asks, a hint of something dangerous and reproachful in his voice. “He has only been bettering this campus after those idiotic waifs ruined it and fled.”

“Oh, don’t be such a fool,” Mel snaps. “Can’t you see he’s only using us and your mezamorph group for his own agendas?” 

Theo’s attention is diverted from watching the horizon, and his eyes are dark as they narrow at her. “Such as?” His voice is frosty. 

Mel snorts in scorn. “I won’t deny he’s been improving Silas,” she says, “but that’s only to keep us happy and from revolting. He’s using us to chase the supernatural entities of the campus— every last one of them, even our allies, under the ruse of them being dangerous. He’s deceiving us; he hates them for some reason. I could care less, normally, but one of us Summers— Rachel— got killed in the shooting gallery.” Her voice is thick with anger. She can tolerate a lot, but if anyone tries to hurt the Summers, her _family_ … she won’t stand for that. “And Elsie’s injured, and Jessica got mauled by one the supernaturals we angered. And he didn’t care, just made us forge on.” 

Theo looks grudging before conceding, “You might have a point. But why should we care about that? No Zeta is affiliated with supernatural creatures, not after Will deceived us and died, and even if he has a vendetta against the vamps, what matter to us?” 

Mel feels a surge of anger at his apathy. “What if it was one of the Zetas that got killed, Bromeo?” she says, dangerously soft. “How would you feel to watch one of your pretty boys die with nothing you could do but watch them _bleed_? How would you feel to know that could happen again, and again, and again, all for purposeless vengeance that doesn’t even matter to you?” 

Theo’s lip curls. “There’s nothing we can do, Summer. It was difficult enough to get him in power the first place, and I doubt he’d respond kindly to us deceiving him after being his loyal support. Nor would he just relinquish power.” 

“Not willingly,” she says slowly, considering her words. “If we were to revolt— not unorganized; Laura doesn’t have the kind of charisma to unite a warring crowd— he couldn’t stand against that.” 

Theo processes that. “It’s known that the relations between us, your hunters, and the alchemy nerds are… less than favorable. It would take a great deal of deceit to get them to cooperate.” 

“Deceit,” she says, turning the word over in her mouth, a sly glint in her eyes. “Oh, don’t concern your little brain… I have just the idea.” 

And she turns, flouncing off, great plans, ambitious plans, falling into woven place in her mind. 

_Deceit_ … a grin plays around her mouth. Such a tainted word, but it holds so much power. She will take great prestige in the grandeur fact that she managed to outwit those who toppled the intricate game of this campus. 

She may be overlooked for now, yes, but she has ideas, grand ideas, and she will stop at nothing to make sure she sees them achieved.


End file.
